


'cause we both know money burns

by janie_tangerine



Category: Succession (TV 2018)
Genre: Banned Together Bingo, Cocaine, Drug Use, Dysfunctional Relationships, Getting Back Together, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, PRETTY MUCH SORT OF, Post-Season/Series 02 Finale, Season/Series 02, idek what this fic is i tried, sex under the influence though they're aware of wtf they're doing, three times they fucked while high and one when they were sober that's it that's the fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-22
Updated: 2020-08-22
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:53:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26052205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/janie_tangerine/pseuds/janie_tangerine
Summary: “Are you still wearing those trousers? The Armani?” He asks, noticing that Kendall has on the same damned pair he used to put on in college all the time even if it was obvious it didn’t fit right.“Oh,” Kendall says, “I guess. They were a gift from my father’s. Guess I should throw them away. But they seem to fit now.”“And do you like it?” Stewy asks, honestly wanting to know the answer. Surely he didn’t at Harvard.“No,” Kendall replies at once. “Guess I could use ruining them for real.”“Oh,” Stewy asks, “and do you need a volunteer?”Kendall half-smiles back. “I guess it doesn’t mean you won’t stab me in the back if it benefits you?”Or: three times in which they fuck under the influence and one in which they don't.
Relationships: Stewy Hosseini/Kendall Roy
Comments: 5
Kudos: 50
Collections: Banned Together Bingo 2020





	'cause we both know money burns

**Author's Note:**

> ... HELLO EVERYONE this is me trying to definitely get out of partial writer's block by TRYING NEW FANDOMS BECAUSE WHY THE HELL NOT, RIGHT? Also succession is an excellent show and y'all should watch it for the disaster characters and excellent writing but OTHER THAN THAT and other than HAVE MY #2 M/M SHIP (except that my #1 requires a dialogue skill I lack and also didn't fit the prompt) FOR THAT SHOW - this was written for my banned together bingo 'drug & explosive how-to' square which I might have taken not exactly straight-up but hey these two do drugs in canon leave me some leeway. anyway, if you watched succession this is like... same level of disaster shipping. spoilers for all of S1 and the S2 finale.
> 
> also, the title is from guns n' roses and nothing else belongs to me - I wish I was the kind of person who pitches succession to hbo /o\ see you in a moment with the other succession fic I did for this bingo *saunters back downwards*

_One_

“Maybe -” Kendall barely even protests, the words feeling weak on his tongue the moment Stewy closes the door behind them.

“Nonsense,” Stewy cuts him off, reaching in the pocket at the back of his perfectly ironed suit trousers

(they cost a fortune, still less than the Armani pair Kendall’s wearing, it was a gift from his father when he enrolled in college and he never quite liked how it fit but they _look_ their price and so he wears them every time he comes to one of these parties)

and taking out a small bag of white powder. Kendall can see his teeth bright white as he grins and comes closer, checking that the one small table in the room is clean.

“No one will miss us downstairs,” Stewy explains, “it’s not as if everyone else isn’t trying the same stuff as us right this moment.”

Fair, Kendall supposes, it was supposed to be extremely good stuff or so the guy who provides it for all of Harvard’s Department of Economics, and until now he’s never disappointed -- must be why he’s the only dealer around the place, he thinks inconsequentially as he nods and sits down next to Stewy on the bed as he drops the soft white powder on the glass surface in two thin strips.

“Shall we?” Stewy asks, sounding entirely too formal for this. Kendall snorts.

“Sure,” he says, “sure, let’s,” and then leans down and inhales just as Stewy does the same, then moves his head back, breathes in as he waits for it --

And _oh_ , _yes, there it is_ , he thinks as he feels his heartbeat quicken, and he’s not feeling as cold anymore as he had just a short while ago -- it’s snowing outside, after all -- and then he’s laughing and Stewy is too, those perfect pearly white teeth all visible through his wide, wide grin, and he hears Stewy say that fuck, their guy was right, _this_ one batch was really, really something else, and he has to laugh back the way he hasn’t since, well, since the last time they did this together, which was two weeks ago before their midterms, and he knows he won’t until he comes back from Christmas vacations, which he’s not looking forward to at all, but it doesn’t matter right now, not when he’s laughing and he feels like he could take over the damned family company in the span of days if only he put just a bit of effort into it --

“Well, well, well,” Stewy says, moving closer to him, his hand grasping Kendall’s thigh, and Kendall can see now that he kicked off his shoes and rolled up his pricey, ironed trousers, “you know, that’s not a bad look on you. You shouldn’t need coke to put it on your face.”

“Fuck off,” Kendall replies, and he sighs into it when Stewy’s mouth covers his -- it’s not the first time this happened when they got high and it won’t be the last --, kissing back as his hand reaches up for Stewy’s soft hair, just long enough for him to grasp, and he doesn’t know where the _I want to ruin those damned trousers_ comes from when he says it but then Stewy laughs again and tells him to have his way, and a moment later he’s on his knees with Stewy’s half-hard cock in his mouth and Stewy’s groaning in pleasure above him, fingers in his hair as he keeps on laughing and Kendall almost wants to laugh too but he can’t now, can he, and so he sucks him off until Stewy’s hard in his mouth and he doesn’t even move when he comes inside it, and _fuck_ but as Stewy tugs at his hair harder he feels his own blood rush south and then it turns out that it’s _his_ Armani that are ruined --

Except that it doesn’t matter at all, not now.

“Huh,” Stewy says, “you think I could pay you back that favor after we finish the rest of it? I still had half of the bag.”

“Fuck, yes,” Kendall agrees, moving back to sit next to Stewy and pushing off his trousers.

He’ll bring them to dry cleaning. If they’re stained for good, well.

He never did like that pair now, did he?

_Two_

They haven’t seen each other in a while when Kendall locks the bathroom’s door -- they’re in a five-star restaurant in Upper Manhattan, having dinner with a few others who graduated in their same session five years ago, and of course the waiter pretended not to see when white powder started being passed around their table.

But then Stewy had looked at him and said he needed the bathroom and he’d be back in a few, and Kendall had followed a few minutes later when he realized he had nothing to say to the guy next to him who also happened to be _extremely_ high at that moment and was more focused on staring at another waitress’s neckline than on anything else happening around him.

It’s not even that he had missed Stewy this last handful of months, because he did, but there’s something about doing coke with _him_ that’s different from doing it with a bunch of others, and he never quite thought about it in depth, but why should he?

“Oh,” Stewy says, bag in his fingers as he leans on the sparkly clean marble counter of the bathroom, “I had been waiting for you,” and then he drops a line on Kendall’s index finger when Kendall holds a hand out to him, but then he keeps his hands on Kendall’s wrist and does it again before inhaling his own coke from his hand, and _fuck_ but Kendall feels on fire at the sight -- it’s not the best stuff they’ve ever had, not really, but it’s good enough, and before he knows Stewy’s hands is down his Armani trousers, that same pair he salvaged in college, and he’s leaning down and whispering, _need some help here_?, and Kendall nods just before Stewy moves behind him and starts jerking him off, opening his trousers and pulling out his cock, and _fuck_ he’s hard and leaking all over the sparkly clean porcelain. Someone will have to clean that, Kendall thinks for a moment before forgetting about it -- who even cares when Stewy’s warm and _there_ behind him and his fingers are stroking his dick with the practice of someone who knows exactly how to make him come?

Certainly not _him_.

He bites down on his own wrist as he spends in the sink, hard enough that the entire thing will _definitely_ have to be cleaned, and he feels like he’s floating when Stewy moves his cock back inside his underwear, closing up his trousers’s zip and looking very, _very_ smug.

“I have better stuff at home,” he says. “I live two blocks from here. Fancy blowing this joint?”

Kendall barely even talked to the other guys.

“Sure,” he says.

They pay their half before they leave, but they never go back to the table.

All the way to Stewy’s penthouse, Kendall’s legs feel all floaty and warm and he grins same as Stewy’s doing.

That certainly wasn’t the best coke he’s ever had, but it _was_ quite good, after all.

_Three_

“ _Why_?” Kendall half-sobs as Stewy pushes him up against the door’s stall, the bitter taste of disappointment heavy on that one word, and the fact that Stewy looks genuinely sorry for him as it is isn’t really fucking helping.

“Sorry,” Stewy says, “but you _knew_ I couldn’t. It’s _your_ business.”

“And you have a fucking share in it, don’t you?” Kendall replies, wishing he could tell Stewy to fuck off and stop looking sorry, except that he knows that the bastard probably even _means_ it. To a degree. Still, not as much as the money did, most likely, but hadn’t he always known that, deep down?

As if _he_ hasn’t done shitty things for money. And _yet_ \--

“Well, it wasn’t me offering you that deal, was it?”

He hates that Stewy’s right on _that_ , too.

“What if I trusted you?” He admits, not quite looking at Stewy’s dark eyes that he knows must be staring at him.

“And this,” Stewy sighs, “is why you’re too nice for this fucking job. Here,” he says, “this is pretty damn good.”

Of course he has coke with.

Kendall doesn’t even consider _not_ taking it -- Stewy helped fuck him and his vote of confidence over, he _owes_ him at least some good stuff, and it is, and it’s even better when Stewy falls to his knees on the strikingly clean bathroom tiles with the small Waystar Royco lettering at the center of each one and takes him into his mouth in what feels like the saddest apology blowjob in history.

But he doesn’t say no.

Apology blowjob or not, Stewy was always good at making him come fast, whichever way he chose, and he thinks he really, _really_ needs it before he steps out of the door and faces his failures all over again.

Still, later, he’ll think that it didn’t feel anywhere as good as it had before.

He wonders if rehab ruined _it_.

Then he stops thinking about it. He has more urgent fish to fry, and his Armani trousers feel fitting for the first time since he unwrapped the pair under a Christmas tree that felt too huge and too bright for his tastes a long, long time ago.

_Four_

“Didn’t think you had it in you to nuke your old man,” Stewy says, and from the way Kendall merely shrugs and looks back up at him straight over a small cup of coffee, he’s halfway convinced he has not appreciated that metaphor.

Too bad, because Stewy thought it was pretty fitting. Certainly the consequences of Kendall dropping that bomb on live television were… _explosive_ , to say the least of it.

“What,” Kendall asks, “made you so convinced of it?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Stewy rolls his eyes, “remember how I _knew_ he had something on you and you refused to answer either way and you looked like you’d have jumped from a window if only he asked?”

“He does have something on me,” Kendall shrugs. “ _I_ also have more than something against him and honestly, I don’t care at this point even if it comes up. I have enough money for a good lawyer, just in case.”

Stewy has a feeling it has to do with his sister’s wedding.

He’s _not_ going to bring that up. “Still, this _nuking everything around you and shit_ look suits you better than the _I’ll jump from the window if my fucking father asks_ one, if you want my very humble opinion.”

“Point taken,” Kendall shrugs, “and I haven’t nuked anything. Maybe his reputation, but he _did_ want me to take the blame for -- the cruises.”

Somehow, Stewy is nowhere near surprised. “So you stabbed him in the back before he could do it to you directly? Maybe I should amend what I said that one time. That you aren’t cut for this job.”

“Am I now,” Kendall huffs, smiling ever so slightly. “A small consolation, if I get out of this with no more bones broken.”

“I imagine you don’t want to try --”

“No,” Kendall replies, shaking his head. “Fell off the wagon more than enough times for my tastes as it is.”

Stewy nods, figuring that if he wants to stay clean he won’t be the one pushing it -- after all, he only ever offered or proposed when it was obvious Kendall also wanted to get high. Kendall’s apartment looks somehow smaller than it had last time Stewy was here, he thinks. He’s probably making it up, or maybe Kendall looks _different_ now, older and maybe more tired but less...weary, maybe. It’s not a bad look on him.

“Are you still wearing those trousers? The Armani?” He asks, noticing that Kendall has on the _same_ damned pair he used to put on in college all the time even if it was obvious it didn’t fit right.

“Oh,” Kendall says, “I guess. They were a gift from my father’s. Guess I should throw them away. But they seem to fit now.”

“And do you like it?” Stewy asks, honestly wanting to know the answer. Surely he didn’t at Harvard.

“No,” Kendall replies at once. “Guess I could use ruining them for real.”

“Oh,” Stewy asks, “and do you need a volunteer?”

Kendall half-smiles back. “I guess it doesn’t mean you _won’t_ stab me in the back if it benefits you?”

Stewy rolls his eyes. “Right now? I couldn’t. And I do think you’d be a better CEO than _him_. I just wasn’t sure you had the guts for it.”

“What, I do now?”

Stewy lets himself smile, his naked ankle hooking around Kendall’s just after he kicks off his shoes.

“You _did_ nuke the old bastard, didn’t you?”

“Oh, _fuck you_ ,” Kendall says.

“Welcome to try,” Stewy smiles back.

Kendall does _not_ actually do that, though he _does_ stand up and move on top of him _almost_ too fast for his standards, and he does kiss him hard enough to bruise, but when Stewy flips them over and spits in his fingers and actually does ruin those trousers by making him come all over them with his hand _again_ before he slips this fingers into Kendall’s ass and feels him jerk in the best way and sees him whimper softly as he keeps on spitting on his fingers every time he puts them back in, until --

Until he’s gotten rid of his trousers and started fucking him in earnest, and Kendall’s moaning low in his throat in a way he hasn’t before, not that he remembers, and his hands grasp at Stewy’s shoulders as nails press into his skin, and he’s warm and tight, so, so _tight_ around Stewy’s cock when he finally, _finally_ pushes inside him, and then he moans _louder_ when Stewy starts fucking him harder and faster and _the proper way_ , and so what if the sofa is ruined too after the both of them come around the same time? Kendall _does_ have the money to replace it, after all.

“You’re still the best I’ve ever had, you know,” Kendall says later as his fingers grasp Stewy’s wrist.

“Modestly, I suppose,” Stewy smiles back at him.

“I think it’s better if I’m not high,” Kendall sighs, barely audible.

Thing is -- Stewy has a feeling he has to agree. When they weren’t high he didn’t hear each single sound Kendall made, and his body felt all light and bright and _happy_ , but he didn’t remember all the ways his hands touched Kendall above and below the belt, but now he did and he thinks that Kendall has a point.

“As you say,” he says, because admitting it now would not just do, not for how they’re wired. “Guess sex while high is overrated.”

“Why,” Kendall says, “don’t you agree?”

“Oh, I do,” Stewy nods. “I very much do. Also, throw away those trousers, Mr. Nuke-it-all. They really never fit you.”

Kendall’s head moves to Stewy’s shoulder, his breath calming down.

Then he smiles, a tiny bit, and it looks almost wholly sincere, for his standard.

“You’re right,” he nods, smiling ever so slightly as he looks at the pair, discarded in the corner. “And besides… I’ve always hated them, after all.”

End.


End file.
